Rise of The Crayon Eater
by MystiYew
Summary: In their desperation, Melromarc reaches out across dimensions to find their Heroes. Brave, selfless individuals who will save them all. And amongst those who come, is the mighty Crayon Eat- "I am not a Crayon Eater! I refuse. No. Stop. I will change this. Or remove it. Maybe we could do a swap? Oi, Shortstuff, wanna swap? I'm good with a sword. And by the look of it, you aren't."


"Why are we here again?" The man sighed tiredly.

"The Hidden have picked up unusual energy readings in the Ishtar Academy. We're merely here to check up on it, with the sheer output I'm now detecting, it could be a Golden-age computer starting up again." The man tiredly rolled his eyes at his ghost.

"We both know that if something of such value was ever here it would've been scavenged a _long _time ago." Although he complained, he dutifully swept the area, clearing angles and scanning various objects with his Ghost. Centuries of habit are hard to supress, after all.

"I think I've found it," Said the Ghost, it's blue light shimmering over a dusty shelf. "It's… a book? That can't be right." Shaking itself, the Ghost started scanning the object once more. Yet, no matter how many times it did so, the results were the same. A paperback book was lying on a shelf, in the middle of the Ishtar Academy, exposed to the elements. For millennia. Even the writing on the cover was still legible, despite being somewhat dog-eared.

The man, just as perplexed as his ever-present companion, made his way over. His voice somewhat doubtful. "Are you sure someone hasn't just placed it there? Even if this area is somewhat closed off, it should be just a lump of mould at best by now. If not mere dust on the wind."

"Trust me, I'm just as confused as you. There's no dust on it, but the dust around it is _completely undisturbed. _If it was planted here, at the very least the topmost layers would be disturbed, instead they perfectly surround it-Heck! Even the very first layer of dust does, which I may add, is even older than you. Not even transmatting could make a placement this flawless."

Ignoring the not so subtle jab at his age, the Guardian made his way over. Lifting the book, he read the title aloud, "_The Weapons of the Four Saints._ Sounds like a kid's book." Shrugging to himself, he peeled back the cover, and began reading. His Ghost peering over his shoulder.

_Legend tells of a final prophecy that speaks of another world. In order to save our own world, Heroes are called forth from the other world to aid us._

_The four Heroes who are summoned each possess their own weapon: The Sword, the Spear, the Bow and the Shield._

"Wow. A shield? Even in a Golden-age story people like the Crayon eaters?" His Ghost just gives him a somewhat exasperated sigh.

"Are you still salty about that Crucible match? You won in the end, didn't you?" Incensed, the Guardian jabs a finger at his companion.

"He's a prick! A Crayon eating shotgun punching bastard! He just sat in one corner for the whole match! Who does that!? He just kept using shotguns and punching shit! He even missed some punches! HOW DO YOU MISS A PUNCH!" Rolling her eye at her Guardians antics, which she is _very _used to, she motions at the book.

"Regardless, keep reading, I can't exactly turn pages whilst you're on your mini-tirade."

Grumbling to himself, the man obliges, flipping to the next page. Only to be even more confused. "It's blank? Really? Every page after the first is blank?" The man kept flipping, holding on to some fragile hope that his journey would not be wasted. Yet despite his efforts, page after page were blank. Reaching the end, he growled a little before throwing the book out a nearby window. Despite what most people think, a long life does not necessarily grant maturity.

"You realise you're now going to have to find that book." The Guardian pauses and holds up one finger, his mouth opening but finding no words. After a few more moments of awkward silence, his shoulders slump in defeat and he makes his way to the window, grumbling all the while. His Ghost dutifully follows behind before vanishing into mist, becoming a part of her Guardian once more.

Just as they were about to reach the window, however, the Guardian is locked in place once more. This time the cause is not embarrassment, or a sense of awkwardness, but an outside force. He struggles vainly, attempting to move even a single muscle. When that fails, he infuses himself with his light. His skin crackles, burns and roils and yet even as the room around him is whipped apart in the following maelstrom, he cannot move a single finer. Though he mostly speaks to his Ghost aloud, he can communicate mentally though he prefers not to. His Ghost correctly assumes that he just likes the sound of his own voice.

'_Vivian, what's going?'_ He says, eyes roving every detail they can.

'_I- I…I don't know. The energy readings are even higher than before. It's coming across as some bastardised baby of a Vex gate and the Ascendant Plane. I can't even leave your body!'_

The Guardian continues to struggle, yet before he can make any headway, his world is consumed by light.

/

'_-dian, Guardian… Eyes up Guardian.' _He wearily blinks the light spots out of his eyes, as he struggles to his feet, swaying all the while. Immediately, he's at attention. He half expected the half rusted and half wild landscape of the Russian Cosmodrome. Unfortunately, reality often defies expectations. The room itself was somewhat plain, square and made of stone. It was of an average size with a single door, the only notable features being the magic circle, the altar, the half a dozen peop- '_Wait, wait, wait. Hang on. Vivian. Is that a magic circle? And don't come out, these guys may look human, but they don't seem to recognise me.'_ She hums a little, and he can almost hear the gears whirring in his head.

'_I can't really tell much without scanning it, but merely comparing it to what I've got stored in my databanks, it's not Hive. Nor is it Awoken, and it is definitely nothing like Ahamkara wish magic. We're clear for now.'_

Letting out a small sigh of relief, he did _not _want to become a purple crystal, he looked at the other occupants of the room. Before him, stood three humans dressed like Warlocks. All normal cloth, no armour. Which was somewhat odd. Not even a little bit of spinmetal lining. To his side stood three children. All three wore civilian clothing, though even by Last City standards the materials were subpar. Before he could continue his analysis, however, the pseudo-Warlocks broke out of their reverie.

"It- It worked! Hahaha! O' four Saint Heroes of old! Please help save our world!" Cried the one in the centre, those by his sides crying in joy. Within his helmet, the Guardian was somewhat taken aback. _'Uh. For some reason I don't think we're in Kansas anymore. I mean, they definitely don't know who I am.'_

'_Guardian, Kansas hasn't existed for a while.'_

'_I know! We went there! It's a figure of speech! I swear you do this just to wind me up!'_

'_I do.' _Said his Ghost, somewhat smugly.

'_Oh, for the love of the- I am making your next shell pink, you hear me? Bright neon pink. And not ordinary neon pink, the pink we saw at that one Fallen rave-'_

'_You wouldn't dare.'_

'_Try me.'_

Blissfully unaware of the spat going at the speed of thought, the not-Warlock continued on.

"While I'm certain you are confused by your current circumstances, time runs short for all of us! Within our country of Melromarc, vicious demons have come crawling out in large numbers. They pour from the sky in great dimensional cracks and pose great danger to everyone! Our country's knights and adventurers barely managed to hold back the last wave, but the hourglass drains still! The next wave will soon be upon us!"

'_Dimensional crack? You don't think it's the Taken, do you?' _Asked the Guardian, somewhat worried if that were the case. Without help, if the Taken were literally pouring from the skies, all he could do would be to avoid being taken himself. '_I don't think so,'_ Replied Vivian, somewhat hesitant in her reply. '_If it were, he would have mentioned those who joined their ranks.' _Ruminating over this, the Guardian concurred, but would nevertheless remain on guard.

"Man, they sure talk a lot, don't they?"

"God, this blows."

"Right?"

"Can we go now?"

Somewhat perplexed at these reactions, everyone stared at three of the summoned. '_Vivian, I have a shield on my arm, don't I?'_ He could almost feel her rolling her eye. '_You only notice now? Please don't tell me that if you didn't see the Sword, Spear and bow, you wouldn't have noticed?'_ Feeling despair sink in slightly, the Guardian replied quietly. '_I think I'm going into denial. I may have learnt a few tricks from them, but I really don't want to be a Titan. Not if I end up like those crayon eaters or Zavala.' _He shudders slightly, before turning his attention back to the other 'Heroes', smirks adorning their faces.

"Don't you guys have any shame at all? Just dragging us here without our consent." Spoke the shortest, brandishing his blade. Internally the Guardian was cringing at the display. He was more likely to skewer himself and his allies than the enemy if he kept that up.

"Even if you send us home when the job is done, that's basically using us as slave labour, y'know?" Said the one with a bow, experimentally plucking at the string.

"You get where we're coming from, right? Keep in mind that depending on your answer we might have to become your enemies."

To a degree, the Guardian could sympathise with them. After all, it was clear they were only civilians. Especially the one with a spear, by the Traveller's light, stop holding it like that! However, as a Guardian it was his duty to assist these people. The only problem would be if they could not return him home. Though many threats in Sol had been eliminated, everyone knew this was merely the calm before the storm. The Last City still needed him.

Still… To so brazenly display their greed and to pressure someone they had just met… It did not speak well of their character. For now, the Guardian opted to maintain his silence.

"Pl-Please, at least attend an audience with our King before you do anything rash. I am sure he will adequately compensate you." Following this, he bowed deeply, before one of the other Warlocks opened the only door and gestured us through.

"Well, I guess that's that."

"Seems like it."

"Though even if it is a King, talk is talk."

Despite their poor manners, they headed to exit as the Guardian brought up the rear, an old habit from centuries prior. The Warlocks lead them upwards passing a few arrow slits on the staircase. '_Arrow slits? At first, I just assumed they used a certain type of sturdy stone, as we had done for our walls, but to use arrow slits with no clear defence… their technology must still be primitive. Any half decent shot could hit whoever posted up on these.' _At his dialogue, his Ghost clucks her tongue in a somewhat annoyed fashion. '_That's what you focus on? Not the city beyond? Though not as large as the Last, it is still a marvel. All those people… So happy and free. Is this not what we fight for?'_ A few quiet moments pass, as he takes it all in. '_…Sorry. You're right. I often lose sight of the important parts. I am glad you are here to remind me.' _He continued, quickly catching up to his group. His heart somewhat lighter.

Soon, the four were ushered into a large throne room. It was rather stereotypical. A lush, red, velvet carpet stretched from the door to the raised throne and grand pillars lined the sides. Of course, the image would not be complete without a monarch staring down with an appraising gaze. For the second time, the Guardian found himself in this situation, and just like the last, it made him somewhat uneasy. At least there were no Eliksni this time. '_…I liked it better when Mara was the one staring down at me.'_ His Ghost retorted quickly. '_Of course you would. You're a pervert after all.' _Ignoring his sputtering, she continued. '_And everyone thinks your reasoning for being rear-guard is oh so noble. If only they knew.'_

'_Y-y-you know it's not like that!'_

Ignorant of the duo's internal banter, the King addressed the Heroes.

"Hmm, so these are the Heroes of old?" He leaned forward in his throne, inspecting each hero. Though a faint trace of disgust could be seen when his eyes found the shield. '_Guardian, although I would love to poke at you more, it seems this situation is rather serious. If this is a different dimension of humans, we could find valuable allies here. I'm afraid it's time to be a diplomat again. This time, don't point a gun at the guards.' _Her Guardian straightens slightly, donning his 'responsible' persona, and readies himself. The banter can come later.

"I am the King of this country, Aultcray Melromarc the 32nd. Raise your heads, Heroes." His eyes tighten when he realises the bearer of the shield did not bow at all.

"Now, I shall explain the current situation. This country, nay- The very world itself! Is on the path to ruin." He went on to detail a prophecy which predicted the end of days. It spoke of waves of calamity which would ravage the lands. If nothing was done, the world would come to ruin.

The year of the prophecy had finally come. The sands in the ancient Dragon Hourglass had begun to flow once more. According to legend, the Hourglass was supposed to serve as a sort of alarm for each Wave of Calamity. To begin with, they had merely written it off as superstition. How wrong they were. As the last grain fell, a dimensional crack opened above the country, and a vast horde of monsters spilled forth. Though the country's knights and adventurers managed to conquer the wave. The next was said to be even _stronger_. There was no way they would survive. And so came the summoning of the prophesised Heroes, their only hope.

'_Vivian, why can we understand them?'_ Asked the Guardian, suddenly befuddled.

'_I'm working on it, we're receiving some sort of passive input from the shield, that might be it.' _Somewhat worried at this information, the Guardian nonetheless decided to put it aside for now. He trusted Vivian to handle it.

"Soo… You just expect us to work for free?"

"Wow. That's sure convenient for you."

"It's really quite selfish, y'know. Dragging strangers into your problems."

His distaste for them grew as they spoke even more. '_Perhaps this is why a Guardian's memory is wiped. Only the Warlords of old conducted themselves so arrogantly. Do they not know what lengths desperation can drive a people?'_ Vivian stayed silent, still working on deciphering the nature of the shield.

The King put on a seemingly benevolent smile, as he shot a glance to one of his retainers. "Of course, surely I do not need to mention how richly compensated you will be for your efforts!"

The four attempted and failed to conceal their happiness. Unknowing of their failure, or simply uncaring, the attempted to play it off.

"Oh? Well, as long as you promise."

"Don't think that means you own us, though. We're just cooperating so long as you remain on our good side."

"Yeah, that's right."

…They're definitely children.

"Now then, Heroes. Tell me your names."

The Guardian prepared himself.

"My name is Amaki Ren, age sixteen. I'm a high-schooler." Said the wielder of the sword, the shortest of the four at barely 5"4. His features were delicate. It was clear he did not know hardship.

"I'll go next then. The name's Kitamura Motoyasu, college student, twenty-one." He tried to look cool as he attempted to twirl the spear, barely avoiding dropping it.

"Oh, is it me now? Kawasumi Itsuki. I'm also attending high-school, I'm seventeen." He seemed to have calmed down a bit from earlier, and definitely seemed to be the quietest of the three.

Just as the king was about to speak however, the Guardian strode forth with calm and surety.

"I am Emrys the Chronicler. Warlock and Guardian of the Last City," he paused for a moment, thinking "plus a bunch of other boring titles, a few _too _many. I am, oh uh. One, two, three, four…" Everyone stared incredulously at the armoured man, as he started counting with his fingers. Before it could continue for too long though, a melodic voice interrupted him out of nowhere.

"He's very old. Let's just leave it at that."

"Oi!" Said the man, a little outraged. "Don't just tell people that. I'm very sensitive about my age you know that."

"Ahem."

"Just because I look flawless after-"

"_Ahem._"

A little startled, the man looked back up at the throne. "Oh. Ah. Yes. Sorry, that seems to happen a lot nowadays. Where was I? Emrys the Chronicler, at your service." He said, giving a low bow. "We bow right? I don't do the royalty thing often. I mean. I did it recently, but I didn't bow, I just almost shot her bodyguards." He gulped audibly "I probably shouldn't have mentioned that." He awkwardly scratched his head as the numerous spearmen tightened their grips. _'So much for first impressions…'_

/

I was tempted to continue this chapter further, as I only really wrote this to get the idea out of my head, but I think this is a good place to stop. Originally the ending was a bit horrific. I wrote it with _all _of the titles. Bad plan. This now my okay-ish plan. I may create a good plan at some point. Maybe.

Regardless, this will _probably? _Be a one-shot. Balancing the Guardian's strength would be a weird one. I mean, you've killed gods but in-game when you super you can only really kill a few dozen mobs. So, do we make him a god killer or a mob killer? Doable, but can I be bothered? Judging by the state of my other story… No. Probably not. Oops.

Speaking of my other story! For the 3 or four people who kinda liked it? It's still under works. Re-reading the chapter that's up just makes me unhappy. So, I'm rehashing the whole thing. It's a work in progress. It'll probably be a while longer. But! It will have fun stuff. Like vampires and vampire hunters. But you probably already knew that.

Also, for that one guy who reviewed my other story. Thanks for the laugh. Though, a quick tip. If you wish to critique someone else's writing, please make sure your own is up to par. It's hard to take you seriously otherwise, Mr. "It's so bad written go cry.". Not that I disagree with you. Still working on the crying bit though.


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